Page 36

DULCE

Marguerite held Percy as though he were the most precious thing in existence. Which Dulce knew he must be since the witch was willing to sacrifice every living thing for him, to halt his suffering to any extent in her power, to see her son every full moon until the end came for them all.

Dulce hadn’t known if she could defeat Aldrich, but she’d had to try. All she’d had left was the spell she’d planned to use to kill La Bisou Morte, before uncovering the witch’s story.

A few of the melancholic creatures still lingered in branches, their curious gazes on the humans below them. The bloody sky slowly darkened to black once more, a crescent moon illuminating a circle of clouds, countless stars twinkling like tiny diamonds in the gloom.

“Look,” Reed whispered. “He’s not dead.”

Dulce turned to Marguerite and studied the small child in the witch’s arms. The boy’s eyes, the same sapphire blue as his mother’s, were no longer closed but open .

“Marguerite!” she gasped. “Your son is alive!”

The witch’s breath hitched, and she drew back to peer down at her son. Percy wasn’t turning back into the monstrous creature of nightmares but remained rather a young child of two, innocent and pure. With the sorcerer’s death, the young boy was free of his curse and would no longer suffer.

Marguerite cupped Percy’s cheeks, and this time joyous sobs escaped her as she kissed her son’s forehead. “My dear, beautiful boy.”

Reed nudged his shoulder into Dulce’s and grinned. “See? You saved everyone.”

“We, Mr. Hawthorne,” she clarified with a smile. “ We .”

“Mama,” the boy croaked, his voice barely audible.

“Shh, you’re safe now, Percy,” Marguerite assured him. “Sleep.” Although her shoulders were relaxed and happiness lingered in her expression, her eyes remained haunted.

The witch stood, cradling her sleeping son to her chest as her gaze settled on Dulce.

“You saved my son. You, a woman who I didn’t know was the daughter of my only friend, a woman who almost died because I lured her beau to infatuation.

I know I have no right to ask it, but can you ever forgive me? ”

Dulce shrugged. “I readily forgive you for Cornelius. In fact, I should thank you for showing me his true character.” She could still taste the bitter poison planted in her tea, the way it felt to be trapped below ground in an enclosed coffin, certain that death would soon take her.

A line settled between Marguerite’s brows. “For all the rest though… I understand. My actions remain unforgivable.”

Dulce twisted her ring around her finger. “You have goodness in you, just as my mother did. None of us are unforgivable. Every heart has the capacity to change.”

“I can name a few missing that capacity, starting that list with the Leper,” Reed pointed out.

Dulce rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you’re right, but still. Most do.”

Marguerite glanced down at her son, then met Dulce’s gaze.

“I will never regret what I did. Because that would mean Percy wouldn’t exist. However, I accept responsibility to heal the land from its curse.

” She flicked her wrist, and a bridge made of pearls unfolded like a royal carpet across the water.

The witch led them through the castle courtyard, where guards’ armor and uniforms lay sprinkled about, dark sand spilling from their shells.

“Where are the guards now?” Reed asked.

“They were made from Aldrich’s sorcery. With him dead, so are they.

” Marguerite halted before the great Tree of Life, its white branches of stone encircling the castle like some tentacled beast, its wide doors carved out of its prominent trunk.

She pressed a palm to it, keeping Percy close in her other arm.

Shutting her eyes, Marguerite spoke words in an unknown language, and as she did, a soft glow of light flowed from her chest and into the tree.

After a few more moments, she took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped back.

“The devouring spell is relinquished from the land. Every tree and animal will be free, returned to thriving life, as they were.” Her gaze shifted between the pair.

“And now, you wish to return home, yes?”

“Yes,” Reed answered quickly, rubbing his hands together in the growing cold without his overcoat.

“Is there a faster way than we came?” Dulce asked hopefully. Walking home, while it would be nice to spend days upon days in Reed’s company, the mere thought alone made her feet ache.

“It so happens there is.” Marguerite smiled. “I’ll return you both to Moonglade by airship before I journey back to my castle. It’s the least I can do.”

“Airship?” Reed arched a skeptical brow.

Dulce had never heard of such a thing. “What is that?”

“Just as it sounds.” Marguerite angled her head to the side. “A ship that sails through the air. Its magic makes it perfectly safe—I assure you. The airship was how Aldrich sailed through worlds and across the sea when I needed to gather hard-to-find ingredients for spells.”

“Sounds much more preferable to a horse.” Reed smirked.

Dulce had never been on a ship, let alone one that could fly through the air like a bird, but it certainly sounded faster than trudging along the land, even if they did manage to find their horses again.

“Follow me.” Marguerite motioned them forward .

“Why did Aldrich have the creatures in floating cages as prisoners? Where are they from?” Dulce asked as they wandered through the garden.

“From far and wide across every sea. Aldrich was drawn to the power of magic, collected it. He could take from any creature who held it in their blood,” Marguerite said.

The trees surrounding the island in the lake had already begun to show signs of life, as if their stone had been ice and it was melting from them, revealing green leaves in the glow of the fire’s light.

The fortress loomed above them as they passed between a row of pillars, opening to a wide clearing, where a massive object stood—a ship, but not a ship at all. Painted in a deep sapphire, its hull decorated in gold, silver, and ivory, various-sized spikes protruded from its sails, its deck.

The airship.

Its keel appeared to belong to any other ship that could cross the seas, but instead of masts and sails, its port and stern were fashioned as if great iron balloons had landed upon them, gears and clockwork gadgets covering their sides, stars painted on their blue surfaces.

“Welcome to the Velvet Noir .” Marguerite threw a door along the ship’s forward deck wide and led them inside what proved to be a luxurious home, broad windows on every wall, where Dulce could only imagine the spectacular views of sunsets over the vast land beneath them. It was like a dream.

Marguerite indicated two large sofas before an ample table of rose pink stone. “Eat. Rest. The magic inside the ship will give you anything your heart desires.”

“ Anything ?” Reed drawled.

“Perhaps not anything . But any destination. Any item of clothing, fire or water. Any food and drink.” She adjusted Percy in her arms. “The washroom and bedroom suite are just through there. I suggest you don’t tinker with the airship in any way.”

“Thank you, Marguerite.” Dulce hardly knew what to say—a part of her was grateful the witch was rid of Aldrich, while another part knew she’d brought misery upon herself by forcing a wicked sorcerer to father a child.

But now, perhaps she could find her own way in the world, be given a new beginning.

Dulce took Marguerite’s hand in hers, and the witch’s eyes filled with tears as she looked down at her son. “I hope the memory of his past won’t linger in his mind forever. He’s still young.”

“Shower him with love,” Dulce replied. “I’m certain he will grow to inspire affection in all who meet him.”

“I vow to teach him to wield his magic for good.”

“Please visit us,” she offered. “I can teach Percy some alchemy tricks, and you and I could remember Mother together.”

“Perhaps. When I’m worthy of rejoining society.” Marguerite sighed. “Now, let me show you how to manage the Velvet Noir .”

She informed them that it would be only twelve short hours before they reached their destination while she showed Reed how to decipher the numbers along one windowpane.

As the witch turned to leave, Dulce remembered something. “Wait!” she called. “May I ask a favor of you?”

“Only for you will I dabble in favors without cost. ”

“Will you make certain there’s no bounty on Reed’s head with the Duke or anyone else?”

Marguerite smiled brightly. “Easily done.” Before parting ways, she added, “I may even fix a few more things.”

Dulce hardly noticed the moment the airship rose from the ground, but as the night through the windows along the easterly side of the ship painted the sky in glorious dark blues and wispy clouds, she realized they floated high above the land.

She sank into a chair across from Reed, her exhaustion finally catching up with her. As she lifted a cup of tea to her lips, she found him smiling at her.

“This is an experience I wasn’t expecting.” Reed winked.

“Quite the story to tell.” The tea’s chamomile flavor perfectly held a hint of honey and vanilla.

They simply spoke what they wished to eat, and the food appeared before them.

Reed was quite entertained by this notion, demanding all sorts of strange combinations—bletted medlar with auroch and dried whale blubber—though they thoroughly enjoyed a hot meal of fresh vegetables and bread still warm from the oven, as they bantered about the memories they’d shared during their journey.

The night wore on, and Dulce opened the window to the moon’s silvery glow illuminating the landscape below while they glided over it.

She stared at it all through a spyglass, purely ensnared by the world from this height.

No longer was the land blighted by stone and desert, but rather bursting in emerald greens, herds of animals surging toward glistening rivers.

A colony of fruit bats descended toward the foliage to fill their appetites.